


Tools of the Trade

by SirLadySketch



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Gen, Lavellan's analysis of her new companions, Pre-Relationship, Skyhold, early friendships, early relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-15
Updated: 2015-04-15
Packaged: 2018-03-23 01:53:29
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3750508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirLadySketch/pseuds/SirLadySketch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lavellan prepares for a mission by trying to decide which weapons she’ll be taking with her. Set during the early Skyhold adventures.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Tools of the Trade

Remli read the mission briefing and made a mental list of supplies she would need. Tents for setting up forward camps, defensive and offensive potions, and, of course, her gear.

Each mission required specific skills, a certain way to kill. The weapons she selected would have to see her through untold dangers on the road, and help her finish each battle quickly and decisively. Of course, a weapon was only as useful as the person who wielded it, and she’d come into quite an armory as of late.

Varric, now he was the caltrops of the group. It wasn’t that he got underfoot, per se, it was more that tenacity of taking out a target and the getting in that final jab as a sort of ‘up yours’ general to any who would dare try to underestimate him. She liked that subtlety about him. Plus he had the most fantastic stories for the road.

Cassandra, on the other hand, was more of a halberd, sharp and lethally unforgiving if you got on her bad side, and appreciably blunt on the other. Still, she had reach and pull with the others, and she knew her business. When she fought, it was with the steady determination and confidence that one only achieves after years of dedication and determination.

Not like Sera. Ever since the elven rogue introduced that strange bottle of bees (and later wasps), Remli saw the woman as a scattershot sort of weapon. A thousand little stings, here and there, just enough to drive you into a mad frenzy and lower your defenses. There was something to be said about making your enemies berserk. Remli wasn’t sure what exactly to say, but bees had their place, too.

Cole was flash powder, perhaps. She couldn’t help but think of him as blinking off and on, distracting, blinding, letting the others slip in and swiftly end the fight. He flickered at the back of her mind, ethereal. A smoke bomb, perhaps? Handy to have on hand, easy enough to have with you, close at hand should you need it.

Vivienne had a different sort of subtlety to her, that of a stiletto dagger—a very sharply whetted one. Men quailed under the abrasive lash of her tongue almost as much as her explosive surges of electricity. Remli had no doubt the mage would wear a beatific smile as she plunged the blade in deeper. A dangerous tool, one easy to cut yourself on if you weren’t careful. Useful in a crowd, however, or when your battled called for a poisoned blade.

Bull was a battleaxe, through and through. Perhaps not the most subtle of weapons, but he moved with grace, and things he hit stayed down. Once you got past the roughened exterior, you could tell that he had a solid core of hardened oak, and his quips spoke of a sharp and agile mind. Definitely a powerful asset to have in any situation.

Dorian—no, perhaps he was the flash bomb, or some sort of combustive material. She never knew quite what to make of him. He was more of a firesparkler, all fun and games until you get too close and then your fingers get burned. An acid bomb, then, but one that glittered and spat sparks as it ate away at one’s defenses. And then perhaps caught on fire after it was all done, just to add insult to injury.

Blackwall—A sword. She tried to think of something more specific, something more… impressive, but she couldn’t get the imagery of a sword out of her head, and she decided to let it be… Swords had their uses, afterall.

Solas was… Hm. She liked having him there. His quiet presence was a welcome balm, and his skill with his staff was undeniable. He could be deadly, but there was a gentleness to him, too. What would she take with her that could soothe one minute, but destroy in the next?

“Inquisitor?” asked Cullen, and she realized she’d been standing there, musing over the survey and her companions while the commander had asked her a question.

“I’m trying to decide if Solas would be a bedroll or a tent,” she replied absently, trying to determine which would be best for smothering victims as they slept, oblivious to the danger they were in. A bedroll was the obvious choice, but a tent could be used in so many different ways, so many lethal applications if one put their mind to it.

“Of… of course,” stammered the man, not for the last time wondering what went on in the elf’s head. “I’ll leave you to it, then. Please let me know if you require any assistance gathering supplies.”

“Yes,” she murmured, picking up the sheet and smiling, “It doesn’t matter, one needs to sleep either way, so I’ll be sure to bring him along.”


End file.
